


Never Looked So Good

by spectre_corvo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, barber shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8460463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectre_corvo/pseuds/spectre_corvo
Summary: "If you're going to be working for us, you are going to have to do something about that rat's nest you call hair. Shimada Barber Shop will do a great job, just pop on in and he'll get you fixed up."





	

It was a cold, dark November day when the bell above the shop door jingled, followed by a raucous “Howdy,” forcing the barber to look up from his work and take in the man that stood before him. He would have rubbed his eyes to make sure that he was seeing correctly, if his hands had not already been preoccupied. 

 

This man was an uncommon sight to say the least, sporting an attire that was fit only for ancient American Wild West movies, from the spurs on his worn boots to the cowboy hat resting atop his head that looked like it had seen better days. A long mess of brown hair framed his admittedly handsome face, and a scraggly beard covered nearly all of his lower face. His mouth was pulled into a sideways grin, a lit cigar still clinging to his lips.

 

“Name’s McCree an’ I’m in need of a trim. Heard ya’ll were the best in town,” the man said, taking an ashtray out of his pocket and extinguishing the cigar. He looked at the barber expectantly. 

 

Hanzo let out a soft sigh, turned back to the old man sitting in front of him, and continued trimming his silver hair. 

 

“I am currently busy with another client, but if you take a seat I will be with you shortly.” 

 

Hanzo didn’t spare the would-be cowboy another glance as he finished his client’s hair and began working on his beard.

 

McCree hung his hat on the wooden coat rack beside the door and took a seat in one of the chairs under the window. Instead of picking up one of the months old magazines to his left, McCree elected instead to watch the barber work, watch how his hands expertly cut the old man’s hair, trimmed his beard, shaved back his sideburns. The barber clearly knew what he was doing, and was doing it right. 

 

Hanzo felt the eyes on his back, but did his best not to acknowledge it, focussing solely on the client in front of him, go about as he usually did. It was not uncommon for customers to watch him while he worked, but he had never let them bother him before. This man, McCree as he called himself, however, watched him with such unwavering interest that Hanzo began to feel agitated, which  _ was  _ uncommon. Something about this man put him on edge, and the more Hanzo tried to ignore his intense gaze, the less he was able to focus.

 

Hanzo’s hands tensed slightly and paused as he realized he had almost cut a portion of his client’s beard clean off. Hanzo drew his hands back and surveyed his client’s face. Reinhardt, a usual client got the same haircut every time he came in, a slight trim and some upkeep on his beard. Hanzo had done the same cut for him so many times he hardly had to think about it anymore. The fact that the man under the window was able to indirectly cause him to nearly make a mistake on a routine he had done countless times unhinged Hanzo. He quickly evened out Reinhardt’s beard, put his scissors down, and pulled the wrap over his head. 

 

“Is it alright?” Hanzo asked, worried that Reinhardt had noticed that Hanzo was not entirely there.

 

“Absolutely wonderful as usual! Thank you my lad.” Reinhardt said, voice booming, raising from the chair and clapping Hanzo on the back. 

 

They exchanged payments and Reinhardt made his way towards the door. As he passed the man sitting in the chair, now staring at his hands in his lap, he shot a look over his shoulder that put Hanzo on edge, as if he had seen right through him. 

 

The bell chimed again as Reinhardt exited the shop, and Hanzo was left alone with the man in the chair, looking at him once again, the stupid grin still on his face. Hanzo did not smile back, but simply motioned towards the chair in front of the mirror. McCree stood up and walked across the shop, Hanzo following shortly behind. He sat down in the chair and Hanzo draped a fresh wrap around McCree’s shoulders. They met gazes in the mirror for a moment before Hanzo looked away quickly, changing out his tools for a clean set.

 

“What would you like done?” Hanzo asked, keeping his eyes away from McCree’s, attempting to keep his hands busier than they really needed to be. 

 

“Jus’ a trim really, nothin’ too drastic. Gotta clean up a bit for my new job,” McCree replied. “Overwatch Corporation. Ever heard of it?”

 

Hanzo nodded, not letting a noise of surprise escape his mouth. How did a man like this get into such a big name company? 

 

“Y’must be pretty impressed huh? Fella like me in a big company? My own ma wouldn’t’ve  believed me neither.” McCree said amusedly, letting out a deep chuckle that made Hanzo’s heart stop. 

 

_ Oh.  _

 

Hanzo made sure to keep any look of shock off his face as he picked up the scissors and began to work at McCree’s hair. If this man was going to be working at Overwatch Co., we was going to need more than a slight trim to fit in with the staff there, but Hanzo said nothing, as he always followed his customer’s requests. 

 

As Hanzo started working, McCree continued talking, having one way conversations with no real substance, and Hanzo began to slowly relax, the low rumble with the southern drawl a winning combination. Hanzo learned that McCree had been recommended his shop by his new boss, Gabriel Reyes, who had commented on McCree’s “unsightly” appearance. Hanzo recalled Gabriel from some time ago, a somewhat offputting man who used to come by often, but hadn’t been much recently. Hanzo wondered how they had managed to cross paths, but knew it wasn’t his place to ask. He didn’t ask any questions, only nodded in response, and replied when he was prompted. 

 

It wasn’t until Hanzo turned to switch to a razor that he realized he had a soft smile stuck on his face. He shook his head ever so slightly and turned back to McCree. With Hanzo working around his mouth, McCree was forced to pause his idle talk, and simply watched Hanzo work in the mirror. 

 

The silence was crushing. Hanzo usually preferred quiet when he worked, as he found noise to be too distracting. However, at this moment, he wished there was something, anything to drown out the thrumming heartbeat in his chest, so loud he was worried that the man in front of him would be able to hear it. He deliberately avoided McCree’s eyes and focused solely on finishing his job as quickly as possible to get him out of this situation. 

 

In a few excruciating minutes, Hanzo finished. He put the razor down and surveyed McCree’s new look. Hanzo felt a swell of pride stir in his chest. This man had been handsome before, not that Hanzo would like to admit, but now he was stunning. With his hair in control, framing his face in just the right ways, it almost took Hanzo’s breath away. His heartbeat sped up noticeably and he met McCree’s eyes in the mirror. 

 

“Is it alright?” he asked.

 

McCree smiled wide, and Hanzo thought he just might have a heart attack. This man was going to be the death of him.

 

“Love it! Never looked so good Mr… Shimada?”

 

“Hanzo,” he corrected quickly. “You can call me Hanzo.” 

 

“Hanzo,” McCree repeated, smiling.

 

Hearing his name spoken by that deep voice was the last straw. With a slight flush on his cheeks, Hanzo nodded quickly and pulled the wrap off of his shoulders. He lead McCree to the counter and took his payment without looking him in the eye again. He waited as McCree inputted his password into the machine, eyes resting on his left arm, noting that it was in fact a prosthetic. Hanzo was not sure why he had bothered to notice until he realized that he wanted to know how he had lost that arm. 

 

He wanted to know more about McCree.

 

He wanted to see him again. 

 

_ Oh. _

 

While Hanzo had been having his epiphany, McCree had finished paying and was making his way towards the door. Hanzo panicked when he realized that this could quite possibly be the last time he ever saw this man. He wanted to call out and ask him to stay, ask for his number, anything to connect them. But as McCree pulled his hat off the rack and placed in back onto his head he simply said “Thank you for your patronage. Have a nice day.” 

 

McCree flashed him that stupid smirk. “Thank you kindly,  _ Hanzo. _ ”

 

And with that, he walked out the door and out of Hanzo’s sight. Hanzo let out a sigh as his heartbeat began to lower and his shoulders slumped. He forced himself to turn away from the door and begin closing the shop. Somehow, McCree had managed to eat up the rest of Hanzo’s day. It didn’t dawn on him until then that he had been working slower than usual so that McCree wouldn’t have to leave. 

 

Hanzo let out a groan and gave himself a mental reprimand. McCree had simply been a man, just another customer to come and go. He was not worth all the thought. 

 

No. There had been something there, and Hanzo knew that McCree had felt it too.

 

If only Hanzo had reached out. Why hadn’t he? What would have happened if he had?

 

These thoughts plagued Hanzo as he swept the shop and washed his tools. He was about to shut off the lights and leave for the night when he noticed it, sitting on the desk. A lone piece of paper, folded in half. Hanzo would never have left something like that lying around. How had he missed it?

 

He unfolded the torn sheet and examined its contents. His eyes widened as he read the few words, over and over. He smiled, wider than he had in some time.

 

_ Jesse _

_ 1-463-367-xxxx _

_ See ya ‘round darlin’ _

  
It was a cold, dark November day when Jesse McCree walked into Shimada Barber Shop and stole Hanzo’s heart.


End file.
